Need
by Gwen Cooper Williams
Summary: Gwen/Owen Gwen and Owen reflect on their relationship. Spoilers for S1, AU for what we know for S2


Gwen picked up her mug of tea and walks over to the window. Looking out on Cardiff below, she couldn't help but think of Owen. She was lonely and sad. Rhys had left her, ironically, for another woman. He never knew about her affair with Owen. She didn't have the heart to try to tell him after the incident with the Retcon. So she just kept on living two lives. The life of the perfect girlfriend to Rhys, and her Torchwood life. She glanced over at the bookshelf next to the window. What once used to hold happy photos of her and Rhys on holiday has been replaced with strange alien artifacts and a photo of the team at Torchwood. Tall, charismatic Jack, Ianto, looking picture perfect, shy Toshiko, and then Owen. Owen with his arm wrapped around her grinning at the camera. She sighed. It was nights like these when she missed him. She never missed Rhys, even after he had left, but Owen…she always missed Owen. She took a sip of her now cold tea, grimacing at the taste and moved away from the window.

He took another gulp of scotch, looking out his corner windows. Owen loved his flat, especially the windows. His art deco style impressed women, and they always seemed to want to be taken from behind, pressed up against the glass as if they were on display for anyone to see. He knew he could very easily find a bird to shag, but that wasn't what he wanted. Heck, he tried. He tried chatting up a pretty little thing down at the pub the other night, but when it came time to invite her back to his place…he couldn't. He wanted Gwen. Looking around his flat he could see the remnants she had left on him. A maroon afghan draped across the back of his chair, matching potholders in the kitchen. He remembered the day she bought the potholders. She had wanted to cook for him, and after noticing he didn't have anything proper to cook with, she decided to buy it for him using the excuse that she'd want to cook more for him. He drained his glass. Some things just come to an end.

She moved about her kitchen, preparing another cup of tea. She glanced down at her mobile sitting on the counter, debating. Wondering. She picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. Owen Harper. Should she? If she pressed send, she knew what would happen. Was that what she wanted? The whistling of the kettle broke her out of her thoughts, and she dropped her phone.

Owen walked over to his desk. If he can't ask a girl to come back to his apartment, he figures he might as well have some fun online. He logs onto an adult chat site, and immediately is engaged in conversation with a woman who claims to be "5'9, blonde, and leggy". Sure, that'll do. Anything to wipe the petite brunette out of his head.

She's reading a book now. Curled up on her favourite chair, the chair she and Owen had christened on his first visit to her flat. She snuggles under her blanket, and the only sounds in the house for a few minutes are the sound of her breathing, and the scratch-scratch of the pages turning.

"How about you come over right now, baby?" He stares at the words on the screen. Could he? Could he really press send? He lets his eyes close and his mind wanders back over a racy IM conversation he and Gwen had over the Torchwood network once. He deletes the words he's written and instead types "maybe we can meet sometime for drinks".

Thud. Gwen threw her book across the room. Nothing could have prepared her for feeling like this. Why does she need him so much? She knows she shouldn't call him. She picks up her phone again and carries it into the bathroom with her. She tells herself it's just in case there is an emergency while she's bathing and Jack needs her. She knows she's fooling herself.

Owen closes his laptop with a snap. Not even the lure of cyberspace is enough to get her out of his head. He grabs his jacket, keys, and phone on his way out the door. He's not sure entirely where he is going, but he notices his feet are carrying him in the direction of Gwen's flat. He can't. He shouldn't. He pops into a pub around the corner and orders a double. He's going to need it if he wants to get through the night.

She lets her eyes close as she sinks into the tub; bubbles piled high, candles sitting on every available surface. She lets out a soft sigh as she recalls a memorable bath with Owen. She wanted to take a calm, relaxing bath at the end of a long day of alien chasing, but Owen would have none of that. She soon had found herself using her feet to brace herself against the wall of the shower. She lets her mind and her fingers drift as she thinks about him.

"Another one", Owen calls to the bartender. He's trying to drown himself in alcohol. Trying to not remember. A woman sits down next to him and orders a martini. He doesn't pay attention. Normal Owen would be jumping at the chance to flirt, at least to offer to pay for her drink. Owen hasn't been normal since Gwen.

Gwen opened her eyes. The bubbles have all fizzled and the water's gone tepid. So much for a relaxing bath, she thought. Her bath has left her feeling more worked up than relaxed. She pulls on her bathrobe and blows out the candles. Seems silly to leave them lit. She glances down at her phone, and notices a missed call. She can feel the lump in her throat, and the pounding in her chest as she checks her missed calls. Her mum. Must not have been important, she didn't leave a message.

Owen doesn't hear the ringing of his phone until the woman next to him asks him if he plans on answering it. Without checking the caller ID, he presses send and says simply "What?"

Silence on the other end. She can't say it. She can't bloody get out the words she wants to say. "Hello? Is anybody bleedin' there?"

He turns his phone away from his ear to see who called. Gwen. _Shit, Gwen_.

"Hi," she says softly. "I was calling to invite you over".

His heart stopped. Really? _Really?!_ "Oh? Well, I might be busy." The woman on the barstool next to him giggles loud enough for Gwen to hear it through the phone.

She tentatively asks, "Are you out?"

"No. Well, yes. No. I mean…I'm out, but I'm not with anyone, if that's what you were asking". He's fumbling with his words now.

"D'you…do you maybe want to come over? Have a coffee? Maybe watch a movie or the telly for a bit?" She neglects to mention she's only clad in a bathrobe. Let him be surprised if he shows up.

He decided to get straight to the point. "If I come over, you know what I want".

Her voice came clearly over the line. Just one word. "Yes".

That was all he needed to hear.


End file.
